


All Time Low

by DaughterOfApollo14



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Child Abuse, Falling In Love, Hiding, M/M, Moving On, POV First Person, Scars, Slash, Song Lyrics, Songfic, aftermath of abuse, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfApollo14/pseuds/DaughterOfApollo14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy Jackson has lived with Gabe's abuse all his life, now it's time to learn how to live without it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Time Low

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the song All time low by The Wanted. I have used a lot of those lyrics in this story.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians and I also don't own the song. This story is also posted on FF.

**All time low**

 

* * *

 

_**Praying won't do it** _

I remember I used to pray when I was a little kid.

Prayed for the screaming to stop. Prayed for the hits to stop. Prayed for Smelly Gabe to just stay gone every time he went out the door. Praying for my mom to finally wake up and decide to leave him. To pack our bags, take me and just leave. Never looking back.

It never worked. And over time, I stopped praying. Stopped believing that someone was out there, someone that was able to make everything better. I stopped believing all together. Because praying doesn't work. Praying won't do it.

 

* * *

 

_**Hating won't do it** _

There was a time when I was ten I just hated everyone.

Hated Smelly Gabe for doing what he did. Hated my mom for not kicking him out, not leaving him. Hated the kids in my class who made everything worse by bullying me. Hated the teachers for not noticing anything. Not noticing the bruising. Hated myself because I couldn't figure out how to make everything better.

But hating doesn't make anything better. Hating doesn't fix anything. So I stopped. I was still mad at them, at everything. But hating took up too much energy and it didn't fix anything. Hating won't do it.

 

* * *

 

_**Drinking won't do it** _

When I was eight I realised just what those drinks were that always seemed to make Gabe angry. I realised what alcohol was. I saw the effects of it every day.

When I was eight I swore to myself to never drink a drop of alcohol. Because no matter the problems I would have, I knew alcohol wouldn't fix anything. Would only make things worse. I swore to never become like Gabe. Drinking won't do it.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Fighting won't knock you out of my head** _

When I was thirteen I picked a lot fights at school. The teachers said I was rebelling, trying to get attention. They were wrong.

I wasn't rebelling against anything. I wasn't trying to get anyone's attention. I was trying to forget. I thought that if I picked enough fights, one day I would be hit hard enough to just forget everything that was going on at home. I would forget Smelly Gabe. I think I was delusional. Thinking it would really work.

I never forgot. Because fighting won't knock you out of my head.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Hiding won't hide it** _

Always wearing long sleeves. Always making sure the least amount of skin possible was shown. Putting on foundation, hiding what couldn't be hidden by clothes. I was used to hiding, had done it my entire life. No one had ever noticed anything was wrong. I still remember the shocked looks in the police station, in the hospital. No one had ever seen it. I was good at hiding.

But it never felt hidden. I could still feel the bruises. I kept fearing my sleeve would ride up and everyone would see the blue against my skin. Feared that someone would notice during PE. Feared, feared, feared. I was good at hiding the bruises, but they were always still there. Hidden under a thin layer. Hiding won't hide it.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Smiling won't hide it** _

No one would think anything was wrong as long as you kept smiling. I noticed this when I was very young. I don't remember exactly when. But as long as you kept smiling people would think everything was fine. People wanted to assume everything was fine. As long as you just appeared happy. I learned very early on not to be the quiet one in class, not to look depressed. Because as long as people could assume you were happy, they would.

People believe what they want to believe.

But a pretty smile won't hide it. Every time I looked in the mirror I could see it. See how fake my smile was. I don't understand why no one ever saw through it. Smiling won't hide it.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Like I ain't tried it, everyone's tried it and failed somehow** _

Everyone has something to hide. Something they don't want the whole world to know. Some secrets are big, some small and insignificant. But no matter the secret, it won't stay hidden forever.

When I was fifteen, two months before my birthday, a month before everything changed, I heard a girl speaking to a teacher. They were all alone in the classroom. I was standing in the hallway. The girl's parents were getting a divorce; her mother had had an affair with the teacher. The girl was begging, asking, blackmailing the teacher not to say anything. She kept it hidden, no one knew. Until the day before everything changed. Everyone found out. I saw the world crumble in her eyes. Her secret was out.

Everyone has secrets they try to hide. They never stay hidden.

My mother and I had been hiding our secret for as long as I can remember. But a month before my birthday our secret came out. The police had gotten a noise complaint. Apparently Smelly Gabe had the TV on too loud. They came in and caught him red handed. I was unconscious, Gabe was hitting my mom. Gabe was arrested. We went to the hospital. I stayed there for two weeks. I was unconscious for one of them. Our secret was out. I didn't have to hide anymore, I wasn't sure I knew how to stop.

Hiding, keeping secrets. Like I ain't tried it, everyone's tried it and failed somehow.

 

* * *

 

 

_**So when you gonna let me out** _

Gabe was gone, but he was still everywhere. Everyone in town knew what happened to us. What had been happening to us for years. Gabe was everywhere. In the apartment that now only housed two. In the whispers, the pointed stares. In the way people treated us, like we were made out of glass, like we would break. In the way people tried to make up for not noticing. In the nightmares I suffered every night.

I still wasn't let out. So when you gonna let me out.

 

* * *

 

 

' _ **Cause driving won't do it**_

On my birthday my mother had our bags packed when I came home from school. She asked me to leave, said she couldn't stand to live in this town, said she wanted to get away. I agreed, so we went. We drove and drove and drove. But I knew that, no matter how far we drove, we wouldn't ever get away. Not from our own memories. 'Cause driving won't do it.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Flying won't do it** _

We went to the airport. I hadn't realised how far she had planned this. That she had been planning this. We were really going away and we weren't going back. She said she had already rented an apartment. We could start anew. So we flew. But no matter how far we flew, no matter how much distance we put between us and our old home, between us and Gabe, between us and our memories, we wouldn't get away. Flying won't do it.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Denying won't do it** _

We had started anew. It was weird, it's still weird. We aren't living with Gabe anymore and no one knows we ever did. We're back to hiding. Back to hiding the scars, hiding the truth. But it isn't really hiding; it's more denying. Denying it ever happened.

But we can't keep denying. We can't deny at night, when our screams sound throughout the apartment because of another nightmare. We can't deny when the scars stare up on us every time we look in the mirror.

Mom has started dating Paul. He'll find out one day. When he's spending the night and he wakes up because mom is having a nightmare. Or because he hears me scream at night. When they take a shower together or have sex and he sees the scars littering her body.

We start with swimming soon during PE. I probably won't be able to get out of it. Everyone will find out. When they see the scars littering my body.

Denying won't do it. Not forever.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Crying won't drown it out, what you said** _

I have flashbacks. Can still hear every insult in my head. I still cry sometimes, after nightmares. But crying won't drown it out, what you said. I wish I could forget.

 

* * *

 

 

_**But if you know** _

I made friends in my new school. And I met someone. But I can't stop fearing. What if they find out. What if he finds out. Will they treat me differently? If they know? Leo thinks you might ask me out, but if you know?

 

* * *

 

 

_**How do you get up from an all time low?** _

Some days I wake up and forget we don't live with Smelly Gabe anymore. Some days I wake up and I forget I don't have to put on make up to hide the bruising on my face. I forget I don't have any bruises anymore. Sometimes I see an innocent object and get a flashback. It's hard to move on. I haven't managed to do it yet. I don't know if I ever will. How do you get up from an all time low?

 

* * *

 

_**I'm in pieces** _

I'm broken. I know it; I've always known it. But I think I finally accepted it. You asked me out today. All I could think about is what if he finds out and doesn't want me anymore. But then I saw how nervous you were and your sister standing by your locker, like she had given you the push to finally ask. And I realised it didn't matter. I'm in pieces and I always will be. I just have to find someone who's willing to accept it. To try and fix some of the pieces. I accepted that I'm broken. So I said yes. I said yes to the date with you and hope you'll be willing to accept the pieces. I'm in pieces and that's okay.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Seems like peace is the only thing I'll never know** _

For a long time I thought I wouldn't ever find peace. At first it was the abuse and then the aftermath of it. I didn't think I would ever truly find peace. But I did. And my mother did. We both found our peace. Paul found out a while ago and he accepted it. He's been slowly gluing my mother back together. He asked her to marry her today. She said yes.

We've been dating for a couple of months now too. You make me happy. I'm still plagued my past, but it's become a little easier to deal with it. I'm happy and I'm finally at peace.

Seems like peace is something I will know, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

_**How do you get up?** _

We just had our graduation. It's weird thinking it's all behind us now. We're still together; I think we may stay together forever. And then I think that sounds sappy and cheesy and I know I'll probably never say it out loud. We're both going of to college now, different ones. They're not even close. I'm staying here, in New York. You're going to the West Coast. We promised each other that we'll stay together and I think we actually might. We promised all our friends to stay in contact. I don't know which ones we'll actually stay in contact with, but I hope it's most of them. I think I finally found my answer to  _How do you get up?_

 

* * *

 

 

_**I would try to break through** _

I promised myself that I'll show you this one day. To give you an answer on all those questions you have, but were nice enough to never ask. I keep thinking of it, when, how I should show you. I think about it when I'm standing on the yellow line, waiting at the station. Or I'm late for class, a vital presentation. If you would call me now, without reservation, I would try to break through. But you have class now, so I know you won't call. But I promise you; I'm trying to break through.

 

* * *

 

 

_**I don't even know where to start** _

I don't know where to start. You asked me something today, something very important. I said I had to think about it, but I already know my answer. I have to show you this first though. So that's what I'll do. After today you have read it all. You'll have all your answers. I hope, I think, you'll still want to after you've read it. And if you do here's your answer: Yes, Nico di Angelo, I'll marry you. Seems like I finally found a place to start.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story. Please let me know what you thought, I'd love to get some feedback.  
> I think the rating, warnings and tags are okay, but if I missed something, please let me know so I can change it.


End file.
